Red
by Red Shiloh
Summary: As the team grows closer, the mystery of Natasha's past becomes more and more apparent. But a lady never tells.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Red

Author: Red Shiloh

Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers in any universe never mind the movieverse. That's Joss Whedon's baby.

Author's Notes: This is a vague kind of mishmash of history that I like to think would fit with the movieverse Black Widow. I just really love Natasha and her murky red spotted past ok? Speaking of which, the title is an 'oh so clever' reference to the red in her file and her links to the Soviet amongst other things. It's not just titled after me. Because that would be weird and awkward.

/

Natasha considered herself to have pretty good instincts. She knew when she was and wasn't being observed just by the way the hairs pricked up on the back of her neck, and right now, they were prickling something terrible.

"What do you want, Stark?" Natasha asked without looking up from her laptop screen. Her fingertips twitched over the touchpad, willing the man to move on and leave her in peace. Unfortunately, her wish was not granted.

Tony took the acknowledgement of his presence as an invitation and he went from leaning against the mess hall doorway to sitting opposite her at the table. His brown eyes peered over the screen of her laptop. With his brows piqued in just that way that made Stark look unsettlingly like a puppy dog, he was impossible to ignore.

"We're friends, right?" Tony said in such a way that Natasha knew he was angling for something. "I mean, we are kind of members of the same dysfunctional family unit now, and technically I did know you even before this Avengers deal, so really, in the grand scheme of things, you couldn't not consider us friends."

"Yes, Stark, I guess you could consider us friends," Natasha said. She kept her eyes trained on the screen, she'd read the past sentence three times over already. "So what do you want?" Her tone wasn't unfriendly, but it wasn't exactly inviting either, she just wanted to get through these field notes before the end of the day.

"I just want to get to know you a little, Tasha. That's ok right? Calling you Tasha? Because that feels like a friend thing to do."

Natasha hated Tasha; she hated Tash and any other variant of her name that wasn't Natasha, but she reasoned that if Tony knew that, it would only give him more incentive to use it.

"You don't think you know me?" she asked, shifting the cursor to follow the words on the screen in an attempt to stop her reading everything over a fourth time.

"Well I know you're scary good at assassinating people. And that you're not a half bad personal assistant. Oh, and that Pep still hates you a little. But that's not much, is it?"

"I'm good at what I do, isn't that all you need to know?" Natasha said with a hint of amusement.

"No," Stark said simply, "Come on, Natasha, you're like a walking mystery. I know more about everyone else than I do you, even Clint."

"What do you know about Clint?"

Stark gave a quick smile and a wink. "Things," he said, "Many things. The man likes sport and beer chips. I like sport and beer chips. We hang out."

Natasha actually knew about their unofficial Saturday night boy's nights. She couldn't say it appealed particularly. She sighed, realising she wasn't about to get rid of Tony any time soon, she closed her laptop.

"What do you want to know?" she asked finally.

"Oh you know, shoot the breeze. Where are you from?"

"Originally?" Natasha blinked. "Russia."

"I hear it's cold there. Where in Russia?"

"The cold part."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Clever," he said. "When did you move to America?"

"In my twenties. You're not trying to work out how old I am are you? Because a lady never tells."

"Not how old you are, no," Tony said, which mean that there was something he was looking for. "Besides, I think our friends Cap and Thor are prime examples for why age is purely relative." He remained silent for a moment, and then he asked, "How long have you known Hawkman Barton?"

And there it was; Tony revealing what he had been after this whole time, but the reason why still remained a mystery, although Natasha had her suspicions, Tony could be a terrible gossip when the mood struck him.

"A few years," she said evenly.

"You guys are pretty close then, huh?"

"I suppose…" Natasha pursed her lips. She sat forward in her chair, chin resting on a fisted hand and narrowed her eyes. "Why the sudden interest in me and Clint?"

Tony grinned his best 'butter wouldn't melt' grin. "I'm just curious, really. I think it'd be cute having little baby BlackHawks crawling around the base."

"Little baby—" Natasha cleared her throat, unsettled by the thought. She swallowed and hoped to God she wasn't blushing, though if she were it would only be from surprise, not for anything else. "Stark." She glared at him. "What the hell?"

"I'm just saying," Tony shrugged. "You two like to have your private little chats an awful lot, there has to be something to it."

"It's not like that," Natasha said. "_We're _not like that." But then she shut her mouth, resisting the urge to say more. Humouring Tony had been fun, but that had worn off now, she was done playing his games. She smiled placidly and gathered her laptop under her arm, then she bid Tony adieu and walked swiftly out of the room to a more private location. Tony said something to her retreating back but Natasha was done listening.

Natasha stopped herself from going to the first spot that came to mind, the rooftop, since that was generally Clint's spot that she had come to adopt. As she walked, she began to feel the stirrings of anger for her fellow teammate. Tony was just about tolerable at the best of times with his constant stream of one liners and sass, but prying into her – and clint's – lives was just one step too far.

"How dare he?" she raged to herself.

"How dare who what?" a voice drawled in front of her. Clint, just the wrong person at just the wrong time. Natasha's eyes whipped up and she glared at him.

"What did you tell him?" Natasha hissed. At Clint's baffled innocence, Natasha spat like an angry cat and shoved him aside. She stormed away down the corridor, heels clicking primly, personifying her anger.

Clint watched her retreating back with stunned eyes. He glanced around him, then back at Natasha, and then a look of realisation dawned. There was only one person that could get Natasha as riled as that. Clint jogged off in search of Tony Stark.

/

"That woman is terrifying," Tony said to Clint. Clint stood calmly in the doorway to the mess hall with arms folded and watching Tony under lowered brows.

"You know if you want to keep your balls on your person you're best never letting Natasha hear you refer to her as 'that woman'," Clint said evenly, "ever."

"You're right." Tony glanced at him. "That was incredibly sexist of me… plus I'm fairly certain that without my suit, she could destroy me."

"Even with yer suit I bet," Clint said with a quiet smile. "So what did you say to her anyway, Tony? 'Cause she was some kind of angry when I saw her."

"Really?" Tony had the sense to look a little unnerved. "I didn't mean to piss her off, I was just doing some personal investigation work."

"About what?"

"About you," Tony said.

"Ah geeze…" Clint dropped his head into his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tony you didn't… I told you not to ask her anything."

"What can I say?" Tony shrugged with a devilish smile. "I like to live on the wild side. Plus you weren't giving me anything so…"

"That's because there's nothing to tell. Nothing that concerns anyone else, anyway."

"See now, that's just mean. You can't do that! You can't just go around being all mysterious with your secret little in-jokes and references to some big huge history and not give the rest of us just a titbit of information." Tony pointed to himself fervently. "I hate not knowing things! It drives me insane."

"Tony I like you," Clint said. "And Natasha likes you too… kind of," he added as an afterthought. "But this, you're just gonna' have to leave it well alone. Natasha's past is her business; my past with Natasha is mine. Prying's just gonna get someone hurt."

"I get it, Natasha's past is patchy and she's 'trying to get rid of the red','" He made little bunny ears with his fingers as he quoted one of Natasha's favourite sayings. "We all have red marks in our files; look at Bruce for Christ's sake. All I want is the rundown on you two. I mean when I'm old and pissing in a pan I want to be able to tell the kiddies the whole story of how we all became the greatest team ever to live ever. I don't want crappy little blank spots."

"Tony," Clint said, ever patient, ever calm. "Drop it." Clint turned and walked away, leaving Tony alone in the mess hall. "Well I hope you're prepared to explain it to the kids!" Tony shouted after him. Clint tried not to roll his eyes; everything seemed to be just a game to Tony. If Natasha hadn't been so genuinely pissed, it would have been funny.

/


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Thank you to the very lovely people who reviewed and encouraged me to continue this: Tic Tac Toe 03, Crumpled Paper Hearts, Artemis0simetra, KrazieeeeeeeKatieeeeeeeee (did I get all the Es in? Heh), and NF. You guys are total angels. :D

I can't guarantee all updates will come as quickly as this one since my work commitments are pretty heavy duty, but I'm super stoked about this fic and providing the inspiration stays as it is now, I'll be churning chapters out in no time. I hope you all enjoy! And please r&r and all that shizzle. I will love all over you.

Chapters written in italics denote Natasha's memories. They won't come in chronological order as memories rarely do, but the timeline can be derived by the location which I will always include.

/

Natasha just wanted to find a quiet place to work, was that really too much to ask? But despite the amount of rooms the base had, none of them seemed to be standing empty and she was beginning to feel more than a little bit claustrophobic.

Finally, she came to Bruce's lab. Bruce, of course, was in the lab, but Natasha found she didn't mind that so much. Natasha found Bruce's company calming; some might have found it odd considering Bruce's personal circumstances, but Natasha didn't question it.

Bruce was hunched over his desk and hadn't noticed her so Natasha cleared her throat; he glanced up, spectacles resting low on the bridge of his nose.

"Uh, hey. Natasha." Bruce's attention had already gone back to his work. It wasn't that Bruce was rude, he just became so absorbed and his mind moved so quickly that he was often a few paces ahead of anyone else, sometimes it took him a moment to get back onto even ground with the rest of the world.

"You don't mind if I…" Natasha nodded to one of the few empty desks; the lab was cluttered with assorted notes and experiments.

"Oh… sure, no, yeah, go ahead." Bruce waved abstractly in the general area. He bent over a microscope but his glasses got in his way and he had to adjust them to rest on top of his head. "I'm afraid I won't be much company…"

"Just what I need," Natasha said wryly.

"Hmm?" Bruce glanced up again, he seemed to only see her for the first time and he straightened, stretching to ease an ache the small of his back. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, just," Natasha waved a hand, like it could wave her bad mood away. She set her laptop down and leant back against the counter, facing Bruce. "Stark."

"Ah," Bruce said knowingly with a smile. "I think he's bored. He was asking me a load of questions the other day. A lot of them about Kolkata, weirdly."

Natasha hummed quietly and her eyes drifted to the work Bruce was busy with. He had a selection of what looked like blood samples in slides. Bruce noticed her interest and he picked up one of the slides, passing it from hand to hand.

"Do you want to know what I'm doing?" he smiled. Natasha hesitated, she was curious, but she also liked to pry in the business of others about as much as she liked others prying in her business. But Bruce was offering. Eventually she nodded.

"Steve let me take a few blood samples from him," Bruce explained. He held up the slide in his hands. "This one's mine. You already know I got my uh… condition… trying to recreate the procedure that turned Steve into a super soldier."

"You're trying to work out what went wrong with yours," Natasha concluded.

"Pretty much," Bruce said.

"Do you think you'll be able to control it?"

"Maybe… if I figure out what 'it' is. I'm just making notes mostly… Having Steve around gives me a lot of opens I never had before." Bruce gave an almost self-conscious laugh and glanced down, he rubbed at the patch of skin just behind his ear, right where his glasses rested. "I guess it's a little dumb, but it gives me hope. You know, maybe…"

"It's not dumb to feel hope, Bruce," Natasha said without hesitation. Her conviction seemed to surprise Bruce and they stared at each other in silence for a moment, then his eyes warmed and he glanced down at his blood slide, still playing with it between his fingers.

The lab's intercom beeped to life and Nick Fury's detached voice filled the room. "Listen up kiddies; I've got a mission for you all so if you'd kindly meet me on the bridge asap." There was brief static and then Fury's voice again, "and that means _now_ Stark."

/

The team, sans Thor who remained in Asgard with Loki and the tesseract, assembled on the bridge awaiting the arrival of their esteemed leader.

Bruce and Natasha had made their way in together and stood to the side for their own personal reasons. Bruce because that was his natural stance; to separate from most given situations thus giving him that all important detachment. And Natasha because she was still desperate for her own space; and because she was still a little pissed at Stark.

Fury entered with his usual flare for 'take no bullshit' dramatics and he looked at them all sternly with his one eye. "I'm going to keep this brief," he said, "we can go over details on the way. Shit's going down in the capitol, there's a trio of Russians in their own tailored suits running around blowing shit up and robbing banks."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tony interrupted, "Suits as in…?" he gestured to himself. Fury nodded and Tony let out a moan of annoyance, throwing his hands into the air. "Is there anyone that doesn't have their own suit now? Geeze do people not get the concept of 'one of a kind'?"

"Sir," Steve said, interrupting Stark mid gripe. "I thought that had been… sorted. Where did the suits come from?"

"Russia," Fury said, rolling his eye. "They're not as powerful as Stark's, but eyewitness accounts say they've got this neat little gimmick that locks the suits up in palm sized discs, explains how they even got them over here in the first place." Fury levelled his eye on Stark. "Apparently they're buddies of your friend Vanko."

Tony sighed. "Of course they would be," he muttered.

"They've been holed up since their last hit, but we've got a pretty good idea of where they're hiding, so I'm gonna' need the lot of you to suit up and flush them out. Preferably with the minimal amount of damage this time." Fury looked to Bruce. "If you can, try and get one of the discs undamaged. I figure it could come in handy for you to have a look at, find out what technology they're using." Bruce nodded in acknowledgment.

As the team filed out, Fury called out Natasha's name and tipped his head, signalling her to wait with him. Natasha did so and once they were alone, Fury turned to her.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of everyone else," he said, "But the trio call themselves The Green Liberation Front, and one of the men is named Boris Bullski."

Natasha felt a cold jolt rush through her at the name. Outwardly, she barely reacted, but she could feel the adrenaline course through her, quickening her heartbeat. "That's impossible, sir," she said as she stared over Fury's shoulder. "Bullski is dead."

"It turns out he's not," Fury said, "he's very much alive and fucking shit up in the capitol. I'm telling you because I'd understand if you want to sit this one out."

"I'm fine sir," Natasha told him and she held herself very carefully, "I want to go."

"Romanoff, I'm not asking you if you want to go, I'm asking if you can go. And I'm not just doing it for your benefit either. This'll be a pretty simple cut and paste mission providing there's no complications, I don't want to risk there being complications."

"There won't be," Natasha stared directly into Fury's eye, it was sometimes hard to make eye contact with the man with his patch, but Natasha made the effort to meet and hold his gaze.

Fury didn't seem particularly happy with this answer and he frowned long and hard at Natasha. Eventually, he breathed out heavily and shook his head. "Fine," he relented. "Go ahead. Make sure everyone's ready to go on the hour."

"Sir," Natasha acknowledged, and then she walked as calmly as she could from the bridge, all while her heart thumped behind her rib cage as unbidden memories flooded her mind.

/

_Moscow_

"_They pick us for what we are good at," Boris told her one day. They were lying together on the roof during one of their rare moments of down time. Boris lay on his front and Natasha lay on her back, staring up at the grey sky above them. The sun burned red, a tiny pinprick amongst the clouds. "They picked you because you're quick and graceful. They picked me for my strength." Boris squeezed his hand into a fist and the muscles in his arms bulged with blue veins spider webbing over them. He had the body of a tank but with the face of a boy still._

_Natasha examined Boris' arm and then touched a finger to it, tracing one of the veins to his bicep._

"_Where did they find you?" she asked. "Before you came here?" she realised that for all the time she had known Boris, she'd never once asked this. She'd never once wondered the origins of any of her peers. Sometimes she found herself forgetting her own._

_Boris shrugged. "I do not remember," he admitted._

"_Doesn't that upset you?"_

"_Sometimes," Boris said. He stared absently at his arm, turning it as he flexed his hand. "Isn't that funny? That vein twitches when I do this," he flexed his hand again and Natasha watched the vein dance._

"_Did you have parents?" she asked._

"_I think so." Boris seemed mildly irritated by her questions and he was keen for her to finish whatever thoughts she was cultivating. "Why, did you?"_

_Natasha thought of her Ivan, but he'd faded in her memory. She remembered tobacco and a limp when he walked, but that was all. "No," she said finally._

"_We're all orphans now," Boris said without a hint of irony._

_/_

_tbc..._


End file.
